


Unzipped

by skivvysupreme



Category: Glee
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 06:48:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6843583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skivvysupreme/pseuds/skivvysupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know that incredible sweater of Kurt's, the super comfy-looking, charcoal gray one with the wide neckline and zippers that run down the sleeves? Yeah, THAT ONE. Blaine's a fan of it, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unzipped

**Author's Note:**

> because this: http://skivvysupreme.tumblr.com/post/144321290423/mshoneysucklepink-spaceorphan18

“Mmm… that smells amazing.”

Kurt startles at the sound of Blaine’s sleep-raspy voice, the only indication he’s made that he is awake and out of bed. He’s padding silently across the hardwood floor in their kitchen when Kurt looks over his shoulder, his expression soft and heavy-eyed under his messy curls. “Good morning,” Kurt says, puckering his lips for a kiss when Blaine gets close. Blaine kisses him back, but it’s much longer and deeper than Kurt expected, Blaine making a pleased humming noise against Kurt’s lips as he nips gently at the bottom one.

His lips tingle when Blaine lets go. “Well,” he sighs with a little laugh. “I guess that’s my ‘good morning.’ I hope you’re in the mood for french toast.”

Blaine doesn’t respond, instead gently turning Kurt back towards the stove and moving his kisses down the side of Kurt’s neck. He’s half-hard against Kurt’s ass when he grips Kurt’s waist and presses himself along his back.

Kurt takes a deep breath, instinctively leaning into Blaine’s touch with a bemused little smile on his face. “Blaine?”

“Look at all this perfect skin,” Blaine murmurs, not removing his lips from said skin as he says it. He moves his hands up to Kurt’s shoulders, half-bared in his loose gray sweater and black undershirt, then sucks at the spot where Kurt’s neck meets his collarbone and across the top of Kurt’s back. “All this gorgeous husband, right here and all mine.”

Kurt glances up at the ceiling, trying to gather his resolve. His breath is already getting short and he feels himself swelling in his pants, but… “Honey, I—I need to finish making breakfast. I have get the toast on before the butter in the skillet burns.”

“No one told you to stop cooking.”

A shiver runs down Kurt’s back at the low, authoritative tone of Blaine’s voice. He sets the spatula down on the counter next to the stove and says, “But you’re distracting.”

“This sweater is distracting,” Blaine replies. He moves one hand to Kurt’s shoulder, his fingers pulling at the top of the zipper that runs all the way down the sleeve, then reaches around and puts the spatula back in Kurt’s hand. “So I’m going to keep doing what I’m doing, and you’re going to keep doing what you’re doing.”

Kurt swallows and nods, gripping the spatula tightly in his hand and moving all four batter-soaked slice of bread onto the skillet. A bit of batter drips onto the stove around the burners, but most of it makes it intact.

Blaine slowly pulls the zipper down Kurt’s right arm, kissing and sucking down each inch of skin as he exposes it. His other arm wraps around Kurt’s waist again, holding their bodies together. He grinds his hips a little, rubbing his hard cock against Kurt’s ass and groans, “It drives me crazy when you wear stuff like this, it’s so hot getting you out of it. You’re so fucking sexy, Kurt.”

The feeling of the fabric sliding down Kurt’s body as Blaine unzips it only adds to the sensations sparking under his flushed skin. Goosebumps erupt down his arms and he closes his eyes, letting his growing arousal consume him as his dick tents his pants. It’s starting to feel like he’s on fire wherever Blaine touches him.

“And look, I can get at these now,” Blaine growls, pushing down the open flap of Kurt’s sweater sleeve and slipping his fingers under Kurt’s tank top to rub and pinch at his pebbled nipples.

Kurt gasps out loud, dropping the spatula to rest in the skillet. “Fuck, Blaine, you’re—can we just—please—?“

“You’re babbling, baby. And you’re burning breakfast.” Blaine shuffles their bodies closer to the stove. He’s thrusting steadily against Kurt now, breathing hard against the back of Kurt’s neck and kissing at the knob at the top of Kurt’s spine.

Kurt whines in frustration, grabbing the spatula handle and flipping the french toast with one shaking hand. The last slice lands crookedly, almost flopping out of the pan, and as Kurt moves quickly to catch it, a couple of his fingers touch the hot cast iron skillet.

“Ow!”

“Kurt, are you okay?” Blaine’s voice goes sharp, suddenly, less sleepy and sensual, and he pulls Kurt’s hand towards him. He examines Kurt’s slightly red fingertips for a moment before slipping them in his mouth.

Kurt leans back against Blaine’s chest, his cock throbbing in his pants at the wet suction of Blaine’s mouth around his fingers. “Uh-huh, I’m—“ He swallows, getting his bearings, and tries again. “I’m fine, but—more, please. Don’t stop.”

His fingers pop out of Blaine’s mouth. “You don’t get to stop either,” Blaine replies, his voice returning to its previous timbre as he picks up the spatula and puts it back in Kurt’s hand.

“Are you being serious right now?”

He can feel and hear the smile on Blaine's lips as he nibbles and presses a kiss to that damn spot on Kurt's neck. “When do I ever joke about food or sex?”

“I hate you sometimes,” Kurt mutters, pushing the toast around a bit in the skillet.

“Well, that's a shame, because I love you all the time.” Blaine’s hand slides lower and lower across Kurt's stomach, until his fingers slip inside Kurt's underwear and wrap around his cock. He begins stroking Kurt firmly but gently, and the glide isn’t so rough with Kurt's own sweat and pre-cum but the friction has Kurt moaning and grinding his ass back against Blaine in an instant. “The sooner you finish,” Blaine whispers, returning his other hand’s attentions to Kurt’s chest, “the sooner you get to finish.”

Kurt feels as though he’s going to shake right out of his skin with how close he is. His hips keep jerking forward into Blaine’s fist and backwards against that hard heat that’s been pressing up against him ever since Blaine got to the kitchen. His sweater is still halfway unzipped, hanging around his elbows as Blaine keeps working his mouth and fingers all over his tingling skin. And Kurt's not sure how much longer he can take this game, if that's what it is, so he gathers all the focus he has left and turns to the nearly-done french toast in front of him.

“Yeah, almost there, baby. Almost.”

The glide around Kurt’s cock gets wetter and wetter as Kurt starts leaking onto Blaine’s fingers. Then, suddenly, it’s perfect, and Kurt’s whimpering desperately as he browns the last edges of the toast and turns off the burner. He’s closer, closer, moaning outright with his eyes squeezed shut, and just when he manages to reach into the cabinet for a plate and take the toast off the skillet, Blaine speeds up his strokes and whispers, “Okay, come for me, Kurt, go ahead, fuck, I love making you feel like this, come on, come on—”

Kurt’s mouth drops open as a burst of heat explodes in his stomach and he begins pulsing in Blaine’s fist, his own wet release soaking his underwear. The spatula clatters to the floor when Kurt drops it; he reaches out one hand for something to hold onto and Blaine grabs him, holding their hands against Kurt’s stomach to steady him as he pants into the air and leans his head back against Blaine’s shoulder.

“I’ve got you, baby,” says Blaine, kissing Kurt’s cheek and jaw as Kurt’s loud moans finally start to taper off and he catches his breath. “Mmm, you were so good, so sweet, I just— I walked into the kitchen and saw you and that tease of skin and I needed to do that. Thanks for playing along.”

Kurt pulls Blaine’s hand out of his pants and spins around, grabbing Blaine by the back of his curls and smashing their lips together. He releases Blaine’s mouth with a parting bite—not a gentle nip, but a bite— and snarls, “Who’s playing?”

Blaine blinks, surprised with this turn of events in a way Kurt thinks he shouldn’t be, and runs his tongue over his red, swollen lips. His big, doe eyes go round and he says, “Um. The toast going to get col—”

“Fuck the toast,” Kurt replies, grabbing Blaine’s wrist just below his cum-covered hand and pulling him towards their bedroom. “I just want you.”

 

 


End file.
